


Brown Bag

by PrettySami



Category: White Collar
Genre: Blushing, Drabble, Feeding, Humor, Licking, M/M, lunch-forgetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettySami/pseuds/PrettySami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's wife has him on a diet and makes him a pretty lunch to make him want to eat. Neal didn't even bring lunch and wants Peter to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brown Bag

Peter Burke nearly collapsed on the low wall behind him, knitting his brows, squeezing the bridge of his nose in one hand, clutching the container of food his wife had packed him in the other. This case was taking much longer than it should be and Peter had a sneaking suspicion it was because Neal was flirting with every witness in a skirt instead of focusing on finding the thief in question. 

Peter cast a wayward glance in the young man's direction. He was currently sweet-talking some brunette whose lashes were entirely too long and whose dress was entirely too short. Peter shook his head confusedly, wondering where Neal got his innate ability to reduce women to giggling schoolgirls. The last time he'd asked Neal'd responded with, 'I learned my passion in the good old fashion School of Loverboys,' That's it. A _Queen_ lyric.

The FBI agent rolled his eyes dismissively and turned his attention back to his lunch. He opened the wide container carefully and smiled down at the beautiful spread. Artfully cut sandwiches (sundried tomatoes and sliced ham, on whole-grain wheat with pesto sauce), round pieces of multi-colored fruit (she must've used a melon baller), and slices of carrots cut into shapes (probably with a small cookie cutter). Peter sighed wistfully, he knew she was trying to make up for the diet she'd put him on by making him these beautiful lunches and he was more than grateful. He felt as though he simply didn't deserve her.

There was a tingle at his back, as though someone was standing behind him. “Ah,” Neal said sniffing. “The work of Mrs. Burke, I presume?” he exhaled on Peter's neck, making the older man shiver. “Isn't this a dainty dish to set before her king?” The handsome blue-eyed be-suited man was bent over Peter's shoulder looking at the lovely meal. He reached for one of the heart-shaped carrot slices and Peter was quick to jerk his lunch out of the way.

“Get your own!” he said, his own cheeks coloring at the childish-ness of the comment.

Neal didn't know if he should laugh or cry. “I didn't bring my own. I didn't think we'd be here this long.”

“Well if you weren't so busy _flirting_ we might be gone by now...” Peter settled himself back to his seat and took out a fork from its compartment on the side of the container.

Neal grinned. “Peter! Are you jealous?” Peter made a choking sound around his melon but didn't look up. Neal sat down beside him and scooted close. “I think you are. Do you want me to flirt with you instead?”

Peter felt his face growing warm as he chewed his food. He didn't dare look into those crystal blue eyes because then he'd definitely be trapped. Neal leaned closer and said quietly, “Come on Pete, just a bite? There's more than enough for two...” 

Peter froze when he felt what he was absolutely positive were Neal's teeth grazing the flesh of his neck, just above his shirt collar. He set his fork down and could almost _feel_ Neal's grin of success. Thinking he'd won. That Peter was that _easy_. “Alright, Neal.” Peter said carefully. “You can have some.”

Neal reached for the food sitting in Peter's lap only to be stopped once again. He glanced up at Peter, baffled. Peter picked up one of the four sandwich halves and held it to the ex-criminal's pink lips, taking his turn to smile triumphantly at the expression and blush crossing Neal's face.  
“I...” Neal at a loss for words was a thing of beauty, Peter decided.

“Go on,” Peter said, smirk still firmly in place. “I thought you were hungry?” He nudged the bread against those perfect now slightly-parted lips.

Neal didn't break eye-contact as he accepted the first, small, bite. He looked away as he chewed, raising a hand to his mouth to brush in any stray crumbs.

“Aw c'mon. You're hungrier than that.” Peter cooed encouragingly.

Neal opened his mouth to speak and Peter took the opportunity to crowd the corner of the sandwich in. The younger man looked surprised then abashed as he opened a bit wider and took a larger bite. His cheeks were still burning. It was one thing to be the _flirter_ and completely another to be the _flirtee_. He felt the pesto squeeze out the corner of his mouth as he chewed. And since Peter hadn't offered a napkin he raised a finger to wipe it away.

Peter was quicker, however, taking Neal's chin in hand, and turning his face towards him he gave a sad imitation of a disapproving frown. Muttering something about how helpless Neal was before leaning forward to lick the sauce from his mouth. He pulled back to take in Neal's shocked expression and glanced down at the tent in his slacks.

This would be the first of many shared lunches, he thought cheerfully as he forked a piece of melon for Neal.


End file.
